Class Four: Those Who Survive (25 page)

But all those years ago.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A stunned silence hung over the group. Dee broke the silence first. “Fucking hell, we’re a bunch of cheery souls, eh?”

Steve finished scribbling in his notebook, pulled his glasses off and rubbed weary eyes. “Thank you, Anton. I appreciate that must’ve been very difficult to talk about. I…we all thank you for letting us in. The first step to recovery is…”

“Sausages?” Matt asked enthusiastically.

“No, Matt, not sausages. Talking. The more you talk about something, the less of a hold it has over you. We don’t speak just for ourselves, we speak to remember those we have lost along the way. Those who are no longer able to tell their story. You have all shared something which unites you. Loss. Grief. The stories you shared may be different, but the crux of them all remains the same. We call this survivor guilt. Why did I live when those we cared about did not? Why do I alone remain?”

Steve looked around the group. Matt raised a hand to which Steve shook his head gently. “It’s not a question which requires an answer, Matt. It’s rhetorical. I hope you can all see now that you are not alone. We will continue this work next week. There are some coping mechanisms we can discuss. Don’t know about you lot but I could do with a drink.”

Steve eased the glasses back onto his face and pulled a half bottle of whiskey from his jacket pocket. A stack of plastic goblets was retrieved from the other. He lined up the cups and poured a decent measure into each, before offering them around.

“To those we have lost, we remember them. And to those who survive, we salute them. Salut,” Steve said sombrely, taking a brief moment of introspection before taking a sip.

“That tastes like gran,” Matt said.

Dee coughed. “Shut up, you idiot. That nearly came out of my nose then.”

Sylvia laughed, held the plastic cup in both hands and took a sip, before wincing. “Been a while since I had a drink.”

There was a gentle rapping on the doorframe. “Steve, sorry to interrupt, can I just have a quick word with Dee?”

Dee walked over to Andy. “What is it Sar…Andy?”

The sound of plastic hitting concrete made everyone turn around. Sylvia was stood stock still, a hand clutched the empty space her cup had been. “You alright, Sylvia?” Dee asked.

“I…I…I’m fine, just lost my grip. I’ve got to go, excuse me.” Sylvia put her head down and skittered out of the room, brushing shoulders with Dee on the way out.

Andy shot Dee an inquisitive glare. “Sure she still doesn’t remember?”

Dee looked around at the sight of Sylvia disappearing into the factory, “She hasn’t said anything. Sure she would’ve done by now. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Just wondered if you’d be up for going on a run soon? Paul and Dean have cleared out anything half cop nearby. Going out in a couple of days, if you fancy it?”

Dee’s face broke into a smile which threatened to destabilise the universe. “Do woodland animals crap in their beds. You bet I would, thanks mate, cheers.”

Chapter Thirty

The two guards rechecked the fuel canisters that had been prepared by their brethren. One said to the other, “Have you ever met The Apostle?”

“No, have you?” came the enthusiastic yet hushed reply.

Guard number one checked off the total from his list and shoved the notepad into his hoodie pocket. “No, he’s rarely seen by anyone. More often than not he is amongst the unbelievers, making preparations. When he returns, he rests for a few days and then he’s off again.”

Petrol sloshed around within the containers as the pair loaded them into the RV, tucking them behind the door. “I heard that he was born of Ishtar herself, taught
Her
ways since birth. He is the epitome of our purity,” his friend added.

“I’ve heard many things said of him, yet too often, I’ve heard the same story retold to make it even grander, more fantastical,” came the reply. “There’s one story of his that I believe, though.”

After placing the last of the supplies in the vehicle, curiosity got the better of him, Checking to ensure they were not overheard, he replied, “Go on, tell me.”

“This was when the end days began, before the Mass Rapture campaign started. He was captured by the despicable Lions of Gilgamesh outside of Runcorn. For fourteen days and nights they tortured him, hoping to learn the location of his Grace and his brother. For fourteen days and nights he refused to submit to their violence and threats. He said no word or made one utterance of pain.”

The guard closed the door softly, checked the safety on his pistol and continued. “On the fifteenth morning, they went to wake him, to begin their assault anew, yet when they got to his chambers, it was empty. Even his sweat and blood, which had marked the floor and walls, was gone. It was as if he was never there. The Lions grew frantic. They searched high and low for The Apostle, some questioned whether they had ever captured him at all, for no sign of his incarceration or torture could they find.”

He slid the pistol back into his belt. It nestled in the small of his back. “On the fifteenth hour, a great cry came from the sentries. One of the Lions had been found, crucified to a telegraph pole outside their compound. The Ascended were feasting on the fool. Before they could retrieve their kin, a second call sounded out. A horde of the Enraptured were bearing down on them from all sides. They yelled that a man was at the head of the host. The Apostle.”

The second guard looked upon his friend with incredulity. “But how could that be?”

“It is said that The Apostle is able to command the Ascended, make them do his bidding. The army he summoned fell upon the vile curs and tore them asunder. None were allowed to Ascend and swell Ishtar’s ranks. As the last of the accursed Lions was slain, his Grace arrived, summoned by Her to use The Apostle as the sickle in the coming harvest,” his friend finished.

A clanking sound from the rear of the RV set both of them on edge. The pair crept round to see Malky closing the cage on the final penitent. They bowed respectfully and continued with their preparations.

The padlock closed with its customary metallic finality. Malky pulled on it a few times to ensure it was locked. “You should feel pride at being the last one. You will lead Her flock to the very gates of our enemies.” He looked at the emaciated woman now incarcerated in its gore-splattered frame.

“You don’t look very proud,” he growled. He knelt down and slid the Stanley knife across the soles of her feet, and she whimpered.

“P…please, you don’t have to do this you know? I have a family out there somewhere. They need me. Please just let me go,” her reedy voice implored.

Malky slid the blade into its plastic housing and stood to full height. He had to look down at her; his silhouette blocked out the rising morning sun. “Your family is dead. When we took you from the supermarket, they were already dead,” he snarled and went to turn away.

“You’re lying! You didn’t know where they
were
, you would nev—”

“Your husband and son were hiding out back. My men found them when we were looking for our volunteers. We were going to use him until he resisted. To demonstrate to him the error of his ways we peeled the skin from his face.”

The woman gasped and tried to stifle her building tears. “You’re lying…”

Malky’s mouth broke into an approximation of a smile. “This was after we slit your son’s throat in front of him. Poor boy, not so sweet sixteen, I think. There is only certainty now. There is no hope. No one will rescue you and no one is waiting for you. Ishtar delivered you unto us. Providence I believe.” He walked away from the woman who broke down into a primal wailing. “Start the engine, we have a long day ahead of us.”

Devin stood by the open RV passenger door. He took in the shuffling sea of grey on the horizon, and his chest swelled with pride. “Look, Malky. Look upon what we have amassed.
She
favours us indeed. Tonight they will break upon the non-believers. It will be another strike to the heart of those who still cling to the misguided notion that they are safe.”

Malky stood to Devin’s side. He too surveyed the wall of dead shuffling towards them; moans and feral snarls smothered them in a blanket of noise. “It is the biggest gathering yet, your Grace. The men know what to do. We will ensure none leave alive.”

“Mister Mystery Man, are you satisfied with what you see?” Devin asked the figure in the RV, looking out through the back window.

“I don’t care, just as long as you let me go in first. I have some unfinished business to take care of.” he fingered the stub where his little pinky used to be.

“As you wish. We will grant you this. I think I don’t need to tell you that we will not be waiting for you. Our agreement will be complete once the first of Her flock set foot within the perimeter. For your sake, I would make sure you take care of your business and then leave via the old railway line. My men will not impede you,” Devin hissed. “We leave. Now.”

May 14
th
2014

21:01

Francis burst through the door holding the doctor roughly by the upper arm. “Just check, doctor. You’ll see, it’s true,” he said angrily.

The doctor was released from his grip and, whilst looking into Francis’ eyes, tried to recall the number for security. He placed his hands on Diane’s belly. He jumped back. “B...but that’s not—”

Diane started crying, tears of joy this time. “Doctor, it’s true, he’s
alive
. Whatever it was, it wasn’t true, he’s still with us, he’s still fighting.”

Flicking the ultrasound back on, the screen bloomed into life, the doctor squirted gel onto Diane’s tummy and grabbed the scanner. He wiped it to and fro across her skin, trying to get an image to appear.

Finally, with three pairs of expectant eyes locked onto it, a low-res image manifested from the static. “Look, there’s his little feet,” the doctor pointed out, and sure enough, there they were, gently kicking in the amniotic fluid.

Diane started pointing. “Look, there’s George’s head! He’s moving, look Francis, look!”

The ghostly image appeared to look directly at its spectators; hands formed from the gloom and reached upwards.

Diane screamed.

The image waned but finally settled on a relatively clear picture of the baby. The doctor looked on in astonishment. “But, that can’t be, there’s…there’s no heartbeat.”

Chapter Thirty-One

As the wind sucked in its breath and blew it back out, the gate hit the frame and swung out again, repeating the process over and over like a badly programmed machine. Bodies were spread out on the concrete as if they had been dispensed by a giant kid playing war with their toy soldiers.

“This is like that other place we went to,” Nathan remarked, fingers gripping the chain link fence.

“You’re not wrong there, kid. Looks like someone’s got a bee in their bonnet about people riding this out in peace. Look, this chain was cut. The padlock is still locked at the ends.” Francis prodded the length of chain with the toe of his boot.

Russ piped up, “So where now then? Dunno about you, but I don’t really fancy going in there. All these dead bodies are what we can see, who knows what the hell is in there waiting for us.”

Zena sighed, sinking to the floor and sitting cross-legged. “Well, we’re gonna have to find somewhere to stay. We got a few hours of light left, at most. How far are we now until this Rhayader place?”

Francis pulled the map from his bag and lay it on the floor, placing rocks on the corners to keep it pegged down. “Well, we’re here, which gives us another twenty old miles until we’re at the border, then another forty odd till Rhayader itself, then another couple down the river to get to where Philip said the camp was, about… here.” A thick podgy finger pointed out the places on the map.

“That last stretch will be on country lanes and through fields. Let’s hope we get some good weather. The days are getting longer, that’s one good thing. So, there’s a golf club or something a few miles from here. Reckon we can get there before nightfall if we’re lucky, hunker down there for the night and then carry on tomorrow, deal?” Francis looked around the group who nodded in agreement.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps,” Russ said, lancing a crawling, legless zombie through the head.

Boots crunched over the gravelled drive of the Bransford Golf Club. There were no parked cars, and with the lack of maintenance, the previously immaculate fairways and greens were going to wrack and ruin. After scouting the main building, skirting round the decaying remains of gaudily dressed golfers, the group huddled within the large dining room.

“Man, I am getting sick to death of tuna,” Russ whinged, reluctantly fishing out chunks with a plastic fork. “Who’s to say that this place we’re going to won’t be like that one earlier?” he added idly.

Francis chewed on a strip of Biltong, his by the virtue that no one else wanted it; even Nathan, who was far from picky, said it was like eating a coat. “We don’t know until we get there. Could very well be, slim. It’s odd that two of these so-called safe zones that we’ve found have been turned over.”

Nathan had wolfed down his cold beans and was now engrossed in Merrick: The Elephant Man, a spin on the yarn, which saw the titular character take on the occult. “Look, Francis, it’s like that man we saw at the circus, the one we left alive,” Nathan said distractedly, pointing at the deformed character tearing his way through a gang of ne’er do wells.

Francis looked over at him, nodded, and turned back to Russ. “Regardless, we gotta go on. This is for him. Think of the effects this has on him. I know we’ve got it bad, but…”

Zena nodded. “Fair enough. To be honest, it’s nice to have a goal in mind, something to aim for, takes my mind off…you know, Tom. Where’s the next place we’re heading to, anyways?”

“Philip marked out a milk distribution plant, just over the border. We should get there in a couple of days, I reckon. We’re not exactly at the peak of our powers anymore, eh?” Francis quipped as he tore into another strip of cured meat.

“Speak for yourself, Grandad. I reckon I could still run a marathon,” Russ chuckled, “mind over matter, just like everything else. Does anyone…”

The group turned and looked across to the man, “Go on,” Francis invited.

Russ sighed. “I dunno. Does any of this feel a bit pointless to anyone else? Me, Chris and Mum had been in a few scrapes since this all happened, but nothing me or Chris couldn’t get us out of. He always had a plan, you know? Even the times when it looked like there was no way out, he’d always find a way.” He placed the can on the threadbare carpet. “When this all kicked off, we were all at home. Chris was staying with Mum after his wife left him. Me? Ha, well, I was a mummy’s boy, never left home. She dropped these subtle and not so subtle hints, but I ignored them. Mum lived in this little two bed flat, we were glued to the news, just like everyone I guess. Dunno what happened, but there was this banging at the downstairs main door. We looked out of the window and there they were, this group of ten zombies all thumping on the building, trying to get in.”

Russ opened a lukewarm can of Coke and took a sip. “We lived on the third floor, no fire escape, the only way out was through
them
. As long as they’re outside, and we’re in, we’ll be fine, Mum said. Two days later, the group had tripled in size. The constant moaning must’ve driven Mr Talbot loopy. We heard this muffled shouting from downstairs, and we all ran to the window and looked out. There he was, Mental Talbot, being carried aloft by those things. They were tearing him apart, limb from limb. His screaming drowned out their moaning. Don’t know which sound was worse.”

He offered the can around the group, passing it to Zena. “Stupid bastard had let them in, though. The banging, which had been downstairs, was now on our flat door. Mum was catatonic, mumbling how we’re all going to die, which was not helping in the slightest. I had a rolling pin and after piling furniture against the door, just stood there. Fucked if I knew what we were going to do, except starve to death or do a Talbot. To be honest, think Mum would’ve done that if we were in there for too long.”

Russ took his cap off and smoothed his hair down. “Chris, though, he was on it. Told me to stop being a flid and give him a hand. We dragged the mattresses to the living room window. We still had power, so he got an extension lead and put a stereo on the furniture by the door, started blaring out ‘Killing In The Name’ full blast. We looked out and the stragglers were filtering into the building. He told us to get what we needed and kicked the window out. We slung the mattresses onto the pavement below and lowered me out, then Mum, and finally Chris.”

Russ ran the rim of the worn cap around in his fingers. “We made it away just as the first of the dumb bastards heard us outside. We had to carry Mum, but they’re not exactly Usain Bolt, eh? We just kept on the move from then on. It hit Mum hard, though, when that bastard drove past us and offered us some food and rest, we didn’t have the heart to refuse. Mum was going Talbot man, I knew she was. She needed a break. We figured a show and some food would help her. We…I mean, why do people do that? Isn’t it bad enough that we’ve got to deal with all of this, without these bastards making things worse? They’re worse than the undead. I fucking hate them.”